


We Bloom Until We Ache

by this_is_the_end



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-28 16:07:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18210545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/this_is_the_end/pseuds/this_is_the_end
Summary: The stories will tell you of an awkward Commander that fell for a confident, independent Inquisitor. The stories will tell you of witty one-liners passed back and forth with cheeky smiles and smoldering gazes. The stories will tell you that they fell in love while strategizing over the War Table.The truth is much softer.





	We Bloom Until We Ache

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MidnightWolf697](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightWolf697/gifts).



> This is a gift work for the amazing MidnightWolf697 - her characters are fantastic and I absolutely love them to bits and pieces. Her works are fantastic, so go check her out!

**_The Beginning_ **

It always started with the clashing of swords and spells. Metal and magic followed by bright flashes of light, spells flying in every direction - chaos and color and _noise_ at every turn. Then, everything else followed. 

He could still see each and every face of the blood mages that caged them - caged them like _animals_ and made him _watch_ as the others were all killed or turned into abominations. He could still see the purple of the ward shimmering over the pools of blood as his comrades were all needlessly slaughtered before him. He could still hear the screams and the roars of the demons echoing across the battlefield. The demons devoured and destroyed and he _watched._

It always started with the scraping of swords and the thunder of spells, but it always ended with the screams and the blood. It ended with them dying and him surviving - it ended with the guilt eating away at his gut every single day.

_You broke the others, but I will stay strong._

~~

It always started with his voice. He would call her pet names, press her into a corner, torment her from across the dining hall. He held power in the palm of his hand and he knew how to _wield_ it – the edge of his blade pressed against her throat, her magic chained beneath her skin, his voice breathing down the back of her neck. Then, everything else followed. 

She could still see his face, could still taste how wrong his name had felt on her tongue. Fire and ash burned against her skin, molded to his fingers, bruised against her wrist. She could still see the moment – the pivot, the turn, the split second decision – when he had _pushed_ but she had pushed back _harder_. The moment when his face melted beneath her fingers, her magic out of control, his bones turning to ash at her feet. She could still hear his screams. Isaac Sommer burned that day.

It started and ended with his voice. Honeyed words turned to agonized screams. 

_You broke the others, but I will stay strong._

~~

_**The Middle** _

Somewhere along the line, he ended up here. The Commander of an army – an army of the Inquisition, which had been denounced by the Chantry. He was sure that there was some irony in there. An ex-Templar denounced by the Chantry, left to lead any others crazy enough to join. A ragtag group of rebels with the weight of the world on their shoulders. 

Somewhere along the line, he had begun to fill the role. 

He had begun to see the promise of these soldiers, ragged and untrained. He was capable of seeing the hope that they all could – the reason to fight, to keep on breathing. He commanded them and it felt _right_ \- as if this was his calling, the voice coursing through his blood, the _reason_ he had been looking for all along. 

Somewhere along the line, he stopped taking Lyrium.

He wasn't sure if that made him suicidal or not. It could kill him, the withdrawal. He knew this and yet – and yet. He wanted nothing to do with that life, those choices that he made. He wanted nothing to remember those dark years by. He had enough physical scars that served just fine without him drinking poison every day. He knew this was not a decision to be made lightly, and yet…

Somewhere along the line, he faltered.

He hesitated, took one wrong step, made a judgement too quickly. He grappled with guilt, old and new, and it gnawed away at him, chewing along his spine. The nightmares kept him up at night, plagued his mind at all times, made it impossible for him to think straight. He put himself shakily through the motions, didn't let anyone else see, but somedays he could barely hold his sword straight. He faltered, he stumbled, _he should be taking it._

Somewhere along the line, she had come into the picture. 

The anchor on her hand, her brilliant green eyes, her deep red hair, her disarming wit. He was drawn into conversations with her as easily as he _breathed_ and her smile made him forget how. The way that her nose wrinkled _just so_ when she laughed. She was the fighting chance that the entire Inquisition needed – the first ray of sunshine after a bad storm. She was a force to be reckoned with in battle, a mind to be admired in strategy.

Somewhere along the line, he fell in love.

~~

Somewhere along the line, she ended up here. The Herald of Andraste – the Herald of a God that she could not possibly be worthy of, not like this. 

She was meant to be the perfect image, the perfect human to lead this crusade to glory. But she was flawed, was imperfect, struggled with her past like so many others. She had to stay strong, though, had to make sure that her mask did not crack, crumble, betray her feelings. Cole comes along and for a second, her entire world shatters beneath her feet, her true emotions laid bare before her. She hides them, tells Cole not to mention anything - tells him to keep this a secret between the two of them.

Somewhere along the line, she began to fill the role.

She started to give orders, started to wield her magic with a confident power that felled even the most powerful of her enemies. She baths in the blood of dragons, dances in their flames, rises to fill the shadow of a Goddess that demands this of her. She flourishes, makes their enemies tremble before the might of the Inquisition - wields the Mark with all the purpose it was meant to have.

Somewhere down the line, Adamant happens.

She falters. She breaks, she watches as so many of her companions battle demons that were not there before, dark circles under their eyes that tell of sleepless nights. Cole wants to heal, wants to help, but he pulls the darkest thread from her memories, makes her watch as her brother is consumed by the living, glowing, pulsing evil that is red lyrium. She crosses the battlements each day and sees the tendrils of red lyrium climbing up Cullen's body and it is everything she can do to turn away and shake the fear from the back of her mind. When he asks, she tells him to stop taking it, to believe in his own strength. 

Somewhere along the line, he came into the picture.

His small smiles just for her, his unwavering support, his strength and dedication. He was the comfort that allowed her to sleep at night, the gentle tone of his voice that soothed her worries away. Him and his golden eyes, golden hair, and armor that shined in the bright sun. He was the strength behind the Inquisition's forces, the fighting chance that they all needed - the first ray of sunshine after a bad storm. He was a man to be reckoned with, deadly skills balanced carefully at the end of a blade.

Somewhere along the line, she fell in love.

~~

**_The End_ **

The stories will tell you of an awkward Commander that fell for a confident, independent Inquisitor. The stories will tell you of witty one-liners passed back and forth with cheeky smiles and smoldering gazes. The stories will tell you that they fell in love while strategizing over the War Table.

The truth is much softer.

The truth is that they fell in love in the soft morning light shining through stained glass windows. They fell in love the morning after, the night before, and every day in between. They fell in love every time they met each other's gaze. There was never a defined moment when they knew, just that they suddenly did. 

The truth is also much harder.

The truth is that they held each other through their nightmares, through their hard and draining days. They held each other through the thick of battle, fought side by side, and took down an army of demons. The truth is that they fought their fears and came out on top - they won a war.

The truth is that it was inevitable. Their hearts beat together, together they make each other stronger.


End file.
